Listlessly lying on the white topped bed,

Intensely focused on the slightly crooked tile on my glorified cage's ceiling.

Safely balancing on the line between boredom and survival.

Trying not to think about days back then,

Entertainment taken for granted, and

Normal was a characteristic of a person.

Tell the mourners there is no time left for weeping.

The time for sadness has passed.

At least that's what I feel like telling the world. I'm not much for weeping. Some say its cathartic, I say it slows you down.

From what you might ask?

From life.

We don't need to know the promises the world has in store for us, because, and this might shock you, but the world hasn't promised you shit.

We are all mourners of our own lives- especially if we don't live them.

So I amend my original statement.

Do not weep unless you haven't lived, haven't known failure as intimately as a lover, haven't lost yourself only to find yourself again, haven't loved loudly with no words.

That is the real reason to cry. Then I give you permission to wail.

Because what is the point of having a life if you never lived in the first place?

As I walked across a desert of uncertain sands.

I felt a warm breeze and something held my hands.

I was gripped with force yet subtle to breathe.

I was chosen by someone to

Teach and lead.

As my walk turned to gliding on a mystical summer Eve.

The pain I felt left me as I

Dropped to one knee.

My arms flew in the air and my

Head swung back.

My eyes was seeing clouds

With stars in the cracks.

In my mind I'm thinking ...people must see me this way.

In my mind I'm thinking ...people Must see me this way.

But in my soul I was feeling

...

...I don't care what they say. n't care what they say.

Suddenly sound floats from lips

In shallow.

I said " God thank you for today and guide me through tomorrow."

All went silent and the world was mine.

It was my time to show that his glory was divine.

As I talked aloud more people came about.

My shallow voice became a humble shout.

The position I was in attracted a crowd.

Was I making sense or was I just loud?

Several other words left from my lips.

Then all of a sudden...something raised me by the hips.

Stood me up and stood me tall.

I said what I needed to say,

They heard my call.

I felt relieved,

somehow unhinged from stress.

I prayed to my God,

He made me confess.

To release the pain and suffering that caused me to walk.

Turn into a confession that

Caused me to talk.

Once my words began to spread,

My meaning was heard.

I knew I was guided to teach

His heavenly word.

From that day on,

I voice my pain.

Never to hold it inside me again.

Amen

ain't it something—the way we parse our lungs into polite portions, like

granma's teacups lined up all pristine & proper on Sunday?

such

tiny

sips

of

sky

the body knows better. knows how to gulp-swallow-devour the world when we let it. when we don't cage it in business-casual breaths & conference-room dreams & fluorescent-lit desires.

see: the newborn's first raw scream

the lover's ragged gasp

the runner's victorious heave

the swimmer's desperate surface-break

& here we are, making do with these careful little breaths. these timid

micro-doses of existence. like we're afraid the universe might notice us

taking more than our share.

but listen,

the stars didn't explode into being

just so we could

inhale

in

mea

sured

doses

remember: every cell in your body descends from creatures who knew how to BREATHE, really breathe, who pulled oxygen from ancient seas & figured out how to scale mountains & sprint across savannas & sing whale-songs through ocean depths.

you are their wild inheritance.

so go ahead:

breathe like you mean it.

breathe like you're stealing fire from gods.

breathe like you remember what your atoms were

before they learned to play human.

because this thing you're doing now?

this shallow-chest half-life ventilation?

it's not breathing.

it's not living.

it's just

rehearsing

for

the

stillness.